A Faulty Master
by parakiting
Summary: /"You owe me this, Uchiha. You owe me."/ Itachi learned how to kill when he was four years old. He's still learning how to die. Slowly, and painfully, like green eyes and sly smiles and whispers like, "I was once like you."


**WARNING:** Only warning for the story.

Itachi/Harry-Harry/Itachi. Slash. Mentions of prostitution. Rest is lighter than the manga.

* * *

The walls of Sunset's Lantern were expansive and wore a coat of varnish that denied its true age. The floors were immaculately cleaned and rows of rooms were laid out before them to the right. To the left, workers bustled around with smiles and trays of condiments stretched out on their arms. Their customers were rowdy, cheeks a ruddy hue, and simpering like lovesick drunk fools. Which, Itachi supposed, they were, at least for the night. Most were civilians, traders perhaps, although Itachi could spy a few mercenaries here and there.

A rather large man spotted them and threw on a smile, making his way over to them in what could be described as a drunken swagger. Itachi did not draw back from his stench (he had smelled far worst in the battlefield), but he coughed slightly. His companion just smiled, reaching over to drop a bag of coins into the man's fingers. The man gave a brief perusal before nodding to them.

"The very best as always, I assume?" The man said, eying them in slight suspicion. He gave Itachi a long stare, doubting his age.

"But of course, Ganta, I only come here every once in a while. Might as well spend it all! This here," he gestured to Itachi, "is a little new, though. I figured a night wouldn't hurt his journey into manhood."

Itachi said nothing, and Ganta grimaced for a moment before plastering on a smile.

"I'll have Hana escort you. And as for you," Ganta seemed to examine Itachi, "I think I know someone who would love to have you."

After the man had left to retrieve Hana, Itachi turned to the man beside him. Takao laughed at his expression, clapping him lightly on the shoulder.

"Lighten up, I just ordered a whole night for us! We'll return to Konoha tomorrow, but for now enjoy the women while you can."

"I'm thirteen," Itachi intoned. While he held no appreciation for Takao's personality, or habits, he could acknowledge the man's capability as a ninja. But at the moment, he wasn't sure if it was worth it.

"And you've killed people. Like I said, enjoy it while it lasts, kid. Not long before you'll be the dead one."

If it was meant as an insult, Itachi didn't indulge it. A shapely woman approached them then, swaying her hips as she walked, and gestured to Takao. His eyes seemed to light up with familiarity and delight.

"Hana! It's been so long!"

Itachi ignored Takao when he looked back to wink at him, and blinked when a rather smaller woman quietly waved him over. Itachi entertained the thought of leaving and waiting outside, but followed her anyways.

"My name is Ana," the woman, or girl now that he looked closer, "what's your name?" When Itachi didn't answer, she merely giggled.

"Shy, are we? Don't worry, Hari takes all of them with open arms as long as they have dark hair and eyes, and pale skin. She has a fetish, I think."

Itachi had assumed Ana was his 'escort' or whatever the term was. He was prepared to let her talk herself out arms width apart, or at most, knock her out while he waited for Takao. He had no interest in whores or any variation of physical affection at this point in life, and wouldn't be surprised if it stayed like that for another few years. He had more pressing matters to worry about. Ana stopped at the very end of the hallway and called out, "He's here!"

She turned to him and bowed. "We hope you enjoy your stay, and please have fun." She winked at him before departing. Itachi stood beside the door, waiting for something and almost decided to leave when an impatient voice darted out.

"Well, are you coming in or not?" The door slid open to reveal a pale woman, with wavy dark hair, the greenest eyes and rather revealing clothing. She gave him a once-over, squinting at him.

"No," she said suddenly, but pulled him inside anyways. The room was large but bare and boring. There was a chair to the left, near the window, and a bed and drawers. Vaguely, Itachi wondered if all the rooms looked alike. He watched the woman throw him was supposed to be a seductive smile but he just found it forced and stretch across the bed, waving a finger at him. He wasn't impressed, and moved to leave when he caught it.

A flash of something in the air, something _artificial _and _fake_ coating his senses, and Itachi stared at the woman, but not for the reason she might think. _An illusion_, Itachi thought, and felt annoyed he hadn't noticed before. She was standing up to move closer to him, and Itachi was impressed by how real she was. Someone knew their genjutsu. But, Itachi was still Itachi, and _master of illusions_ was sewn into his family history long before he was born.

"Kai," he muttered, Sharigan bleeding into his eyes.

At first, nothing distinguishable happened, then the flicker of something in the woman before she disappeared completely. A new addition had been added to the room. A young man was lounging in the chair, staring out the window with a bored expression. Itachi could discern the similarities between the woman and this young man, and narrowed his eyes. While the brothel was wells away from Konoha, a man who could get past Itachi, if only for a few moments, was dangerous. Best to eliminate the threat.

The young man, seeming to notice his audience, glanced towards Itachi. He blinked.

"Interesting," he murmured, straightening, "first time that's happened."

"I would know the reason, before you die."

The man, Hari, laughed. "How rich! I have no interest in dying at the moment, thank you very much."

Itachi narrowed his eyes. Hari cocked his head, examining the Sharigan. He stepped closer to Itachi in one sweep of his legs, time seeming to stop for this man, and closed his eyes. The man breathed.

"He's very very close," the man muttered, and something had shifted in his pale skin, in his hair, in the light. Hari opened his eyes, and darkness fell out, wrapping around Itachi's lungs, freezing him and – _move get away he needs to get away_- and stealing his breath, and Itachi thinks dying feels something like drowning and burning at the same time- and then it's over and the ninja was staring into the greenest eyes he ever knew.

"What are you?" Itachi said, cautious and afraid and so very very cold. He could not kill this man/thing/monster/abomination/_death._ Hari's eyes twinkled something dark, and the man retreated.

"Just a boy," Hari said, "but that was before."

"And now?"

Hari shrugged, and he looked slightly amused. "You tell me. They say death wears the skin of the watcher's fear."

Itachi did not say anything for a moment, processing the information. "You are Death."

Hari shrugged again, bored. Not denying. Not conceding. Annoying.

"You still look like a boy," Itachi said, for lack of anything else to say, because Itachi was a genius, but you couldn't kill Death, and killing was (sadly) almost the easiest thing he could do. But he memorized the image of Hari/Death, just in case.

"What that says about you is mildly pathetic," Hari muttered drily, a smirk tugging at his lips, "but, even a boy can do great things."

"You are not what one would expect," Itachi said carefully after a brief pause.

Hari hummed, "Like I said, I appear as what I must. Perhaps you just fear someone with greater intellect?"

No. That wasn't it.

"Ah," Hari said, "you fear someone you cannot kill. Well, not quite. There are people you can physically eliminate, but the repercussions, well well well, just more paperwork for me. Or do you fear death?"

In some ways, yes, Itachi thought, and let his Sharigan die away. He wouldn't be able to do anything anyway. Death was Death.

"Not for yourself," Hari continued thoughtfully, "interesting."

Itachi raised an eyebrow.

"Don't flatter yourself, boy," Hari said, and lounged back into his chair. Itachi said nothing, and said nothing still when Hari smiled, and disappeared with a smart pop, a whip cracking the air. Before he left completely, Itachi caught a wisp of words, a whisper of secrets.

"_I was once like you_."

(And look where that got me.)

Later the woman, Ana, would return with a raise of eyebrows at the state of the room (empty), but say nothing. It always happened that way.

* * *

In the hush of a storm, and a silent family, Itachi stayed up longer than he usually did. It was easy to force himself to fall asleep, it was part of the job, but Itachi remembered green eyes and something not-human. And you never quite forget that.

* * *

In a different world/time/universe/_everything_ a man with green eyes said nothing when they shoved him onto the executioner's mound, clamping his fate around his neck. He said nothing when the executioner flashed his ax in the sunlight (the people loved little shows) and said nothing still when he raised the ax above his head. Just moments before the ax met his neck, his eyes scanned the crowd and stopped, lighting up to something bright and heavy- and then it was gone, rollingrollingrolling away.

The crowds didn't know to cheer or recoil in disgust so they did both.

They took no notice when the executioner fell faint to his feet, and the corpse straightened itself with creaks. They took no notice when a pale arm took hold of a head and attached it, tendrils and skin sewing itself together until no past injury was even hinted.

They ignored the way a very different man died that day. Because admitting the truth was like dying.

(Itachi always had a fondness for self-destruction.)

* * *

**NOTE: **I don't even know. I've always liked creepyish, kinda horrorfilled, mysterious, MasterOfDeath! Harry. Hope I pulled it off. Thoughts?


End file.
